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224
THE CRAYON"
are like skirmishers around a rooky fortress,
now and then firing at its solid walls an
occasional musket shot, or approaching
them with drums beating and banners flying,
buc with none of the desperate determina-
tion of real war.
Certainly our Rajah was not the man to
scale the walls, nor was his poetry that of
Tyrtoeus. Lying on the table were beauti-
ful manuscript copies of his works, which
he had brought out for my admiration.
They were exquisitely written by professed
scribes, and some of them were superbly
and profusely illuminated. Nothing of the
kipd that I had ever seen surpassed the
brilliancy of color, and miniature delicacy
of these illuminations, or the grace of the
arabesque designs that bordered many of the
pages, but they possessed little value as
illustrations of life, and had no significance
as works of. Art. Neither painting nor
sculpture have ever risen, save in a few ex-
ceptional iustances, to aliigher rank than
that of purely imitative 1 " arts in the East.
They possess no spiritual character, and
even the architecture of India, splendid as
it is, owes its chief splendor to exotic in-
fluences and foreign inspiration. One or
two of the illuminations in these manu-
scripts were amusing specimens of native
taste. They were pictures of celestial fe-
male figures, with butterfly wings, and in
full dress. But the dresses were cut after
the absurdest of absurd English fashions,
with leg of mutton sleeves, incredibly short
waists, and scant skirts, while the heads of
these angelic beings were covered witli
brightly trimmed Leghorn bats. I looked
to see other spirits with bell-crowned hats,
top-boots, and spurs.
On another table lay a copy of the poems
of the present Emperor of Delhi, a hand-
some folio, imperially bound in gilded soar-
let, the gift of his majesty to his well-be-
loved laureate. Great men in the East
write poetry with much ease, vicariously.
Next to this imperial volume, in curious
juxtaposition, was a book that had a pecu-
liarly familiar look. I took it up — it was
lettered " Everett's Orations." It was the
gift of the author. The Emperor of Delhi
and the Governor of Massachusetts side by
side ! What a fresh flavor of New England
was in that book ! 1 opened it, and fancied I
■was in the church at Cambridge, standing
on Plymouth Rock, over which a palm-tree
■was waving, and looking at Bunker Hill
Monument, from the top of which a muez-
zin was calling to prayers. " Do you per-
sonally acquaint Everett, Sahib ?" asked the
Rajah. " 1 have salaamed to him often,"
was my reply. "I pray you to regard
this," said the poet, handing me a gold
medal that he bad received from some so-
ciety in Europe. His fame had extended
over three quarters of the globe.
At length, the lea-table was ready, and
■we were ceremoniously conducted into an-
other apartment, in which was a large
table handsomely spread with plate, trans-
parent porcelain, and profuse vases of
flowers, whose perfume overpowered the
freshness of the air. The feast was entire-
ly made up ot Hindoo delicacies, dishes to
be appreciated by those bred up in Hindoo
tastes. It was in vain, and with fruitless
struggles, that I endeavored to do justice
to one rich confection after another that
the Rajah begged to have the delight of
seeing me eat. A single mouthful of some
of them might have been pleasant enough,
but, in general, they were too greasy and
high-flavored ; and to make a meal of them
was like making a meal of butter and
brown sugar, mixed with " nutmegs and
cinnamon, pepper aud cloves."*
During the entertainment, two little
sons of the Rajah were brought in, to behold
the Eeringhee. They were bright-eyed,
and inquisitive, dressed up in red em-
broidered silks, hung over with gold orna-
ments. The Rajah was curious about Ame-
rica ; he would like to send one of his sons
to see that great country, but the form of
government puzzled him. He had heard
of Congress, and its two bodies ; " I under-
stand," said he, " quite same as House of
Lords and Court of Directors." When I
positively could taste no more, wine was
brought, and the Rajah and his friend show-
ed no scruple in partaking of it.
It was very dark when I took my leave,
and though it was late, the street, poorly
lighted by the dull lamps that hung in the
open shops, was still full of passengers. In
some of the huts the evening meal was be-
ing cooked over a blazing fire, which burn-
ed on the mud floor, with men, women aud
children, seated around it. The smoke
poured out of the doorways, illuminated by
the light within. Each interior was a pic-
ture waiting for its painter. The night
was warm, and on the flat roofs, and on
the mud platforms in front of the houses,
lay sleepers wrapped in their unfolded gar-
ments. Everywhere dense life, till we
reached the quiet streets about Govern-
ment House, aud scared a jackal who had
crept in from the jungle, and was prowling
about with thievish intentions.
During the remainder of my stay at Cal-
cutta, \ saw nothing more of the royal poet
of Delhi, Maha Rajah Apurva Krishna
Bahadoor, whose name, literally translated,
signifies, The Great Ruler Boundless Krish-
na the Brave. He sent me his works and
his portrait gorgeous in jewels, shawls and
turban, which. I look at when I want to
see how a poet laureate, Tennyson, for in-
stance, ought to be dressed.
AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE.
(Published in a Periodical in 1843.)
We have heard the learned in matters
relating to Art, express the opinion that
these United States are destined to form a
new style of architecture. Remembering
that a vast population, rich in material and
guided by the experience, the precepts, and
the models of the old world, was about to
erect durable structures for every function
of civilized life, we also cherished the hope
that such a combination would speedily be
formed.
We forgot that though the country was
young, yet the people were old, that as
Americans we have no childhood, no hall-
fabulous, legendary wealth, no misty, cloud-
enveloped back-ground. We forgot that
we had not unity of religious belief, nor
unity of origin ; that our territory, extend-
ing from the white bear to the alligator,
made our occupations dissimilar, our cha-
racter aud tastes various. We forgot that
* A description of one of these dishes may serve for
that of a class. A paste uf flour and water is strained
through a sieve in drops into a pan of boiling ghee or oily
butter, from which it is taken and made up, with sugar,
almonds, raisins, and whole peppers, into balls. This is
a much esteemed deUcacy, and is considered very nice.
the Republic had leaped full-grown and
armed to the teeth from the brain of her
parent, and that a hammer had been the
instrument of delivery. We forgot that
reason had been the dry nurse of the giant
offspring, and had fed her from the begin-
ning with the stout bread and meat of
fact; that every wry face the bantling
ever made had been dagnerreotyped, and
all her words and deeds printed and label-
led away in the pigeon-holes of official bu-
reaux.
Reason can dissect, but cannot originate;
she can adopt, but cannot create ; she can
modify, but cannot find. Give her but a
cockboat, and she will elaborate a line of
battle ship; give her but a beam with its
wooden tooth, and she turns out the patent
plough. She is not j^mng, and when her
friends insist upon the phenomena of youth,
then is she least attractive. She can imi-
tate the flush of the young cheek, but where
is the flash of the young eye? She buys
the teeth — alas ! she cannot buy the breath
of childhood. The puny cathedral of
Broadway, like an elephant dwindled to
the size of a dog, measures her yearning
for Gothic sublimity, while the roar of the
Astor-house, and the mammoth vase of the
great reservoir, shows how she works when
she feels at home, and is in earnest.
The mind of this country has never been
seriously applied to the subject of build-
ing. Inteutly engaged in matters of more
pressing importance, we havo been con-
tent to receive our notions of architecture
as we have received the fashion of our
garments, and the form of our entertain-
ments, from Europe. In our eagerness to
appropriate we have neglected to adapt, to
distinguish — nay, to understand. We have
built small Gothic temples, of wood, and
have omitted all ornaments for economy,
unmindful that size, material, and orna-
ment are the elements of effect in that style
of building. Captivated by the classic
symmetry of the Athenial models, we have
sought to bring the Parthenon into our
streets, to make the temple of Theseus
work in our towns. We have shorn them
of their lateral colonnades, let them down
from their dignified platform, pierced their
walls for light, and, instead ot the storied
relief and the eloquent statue which en-
riched the frieze, and graced the pediment,
we have made our chimney tops to peer
over the broken profile, and tell by their
rising smoke of the traffic and desecration
of the interior. Still the model may be
recognized, some of the architectural fea-
tures are entire; like the captive king
stripped alike of arms and purple, and
drudging amid the Helots of a capital, the
Greek temple as seen among us claims
pity for its degraded majesty, and attests
the barbarian force which lias abused its
nature, and been blind to its qualities.
If we trace architecture from its perfec-
tion, in the days of Pericles, to its mani-
fest decay in the reign of Constantine, we
shall find that one of the surest symptoms
of decline was the adoption of admired
forms and models for purposes not com em-
plated in their invention. The forum be-
came a temple, the tribunal became a tem-
ple, the theatre was turned into a church ;
nay, the column, that organized member,
that subordinate part, set up for itself,
usurped unity, and was a monument! The
great principles of architecture being once
THE CEATO 3ST .
abandoned, correctness gave way to novelty,
economy and vain-glory associated pro-
duced meanness and pretension. Sculp-
ture, too, had waned. The degenerate
workmen could no longer match the frag-
ments they sought to mingle, nor copy the
originals they only hoped to repeat. The
mouldering remains of better days frowned
contempt uoon such impotent efforts, till,
in the gradual coming of darkness, igno-
rance became content, and insensibility
ceased to compare.
We say that the mind of this country has
never been seriously applied to architec-
ture. True it is, that the commonwealth,
with that desire of public magnificence
which has ever been a leading feature of
democracy, has called from the vasty deep
of the past the spirits of the Greek, the
Roman, and the Gothic styles; but they
would not come when she did call to them !
The vast cathedral with its ever open
portals, towering high above the courts of
kings, inviting all men to its cool and fra-
grant twilight, where the voice of the organ
stirs the blood, and the dim-seen visions of
saints and martyrs bleed and die upon the
canvas amid the echoes of hymning voices
and the clouds of frankincense, this archi-
tectural embodying of the divine and bless-
ed words, " Come to me, ye who labor
and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest!" demands a sacrifice of what we hold
dearest. Its corner-stone must be laid upon
the right to judge the claims of the church.
The style of Greek architecture as seen in
the Greek temple, demands the aid of
sculpture, insists upon every feature of its
original organization, loses its harmony if
a note be dropped in the execution, and
when so modified as to serve for a custom-
house or a bank, departs from its original
beauty and propriety as widely as the
crippled gelding of a hackney coach differs
from the bounding and neighing wild horse
of the desert. Even where, in the fervor
of our faith in shapes, we have sternly ad-
hered to the dictum of another age, and
have actually succeeded in securing the en-
tire exterior which echoes the forms of
Athens, the pile stands a stranger among
us ! and receives a respect akin to what we
should feel for a fellow-citizen in the garb
of Greece. It is a make-believe ! It is not
the real thing! ¥e see the marble capi-
tals; we trace the acanthus leaves of a
celebrated model — incredulous odi! It is
not a temple.
The number and variety of our experi-
ments in building show the dissatisfaction
of the public taste with what has been
hitherto achieved; the expense at which
they have been made proves how strong is
the yearning after excellence ; the talents
and acquirements of the artists whose ser-
vices have been engaged in them are such
as to convince ns that the fault lies in the
system, not in the men. Is it possible that
out of this chaos order can arise ? that of
these conflicting dialects and jargons a lan-
guage can be born ? When shall we have
done with experiments? "What refuge is
there from the absurdities that have suc-
cessively usurped the name and functions
of architecture? Is it not better to go on
with consistency and uniformity in imita-
tion of an admired model than incur the
disgrace of other failures ? In answering
these questions, let us remember with hu-
mility that all salutary changes are the
work of many and of time ; but let us en-
courage experiment at the risk of license,
rather thau submit to an iron rule that be-
gins by sacrificing reason, dignity and com-
fort. Let us consult nature, and in the as-
surance that she will disclose a mine, richer
than was ever dreamed of by the Greeks,
in art as well as in philosophy. Let us re-
gard as ingratitude to the author of nature
the despondent idleness that sits down
while one want is unprovided for, one
worthy object unattained.
If, as the first step in our search after the
great principles of construction, we but
observe the skeletons and skins of animals,
through all the varieties of beast and bird,
of fish and insect, are we not as forcibly
struck by their variety as by their beauty ?
There is no arbitrary law of proportion, no
unbending model of form. There is scarce
a part of the animal organization which we
do not find elongated or shortened, in-
creased, diminished, or suppressed, as the
wants of the genus or species dictate, as
their exposure or their work may require.
The neck of the swan and that of the
eagle, however different in character and
proportion, equally charm the eye and sa-
tisfy the reason. "We approve the length
of the same member in grazing animals, its
shortness in beasts of pray. The horse's
shanks are thin, and we admire them ; the
greyhound's chest is deep, and we cry beau-
tiful! It is neither the presence nor the
absence of this or that part or shape or
color that wins our eye in natural objects ;
it is the consistency and harmony of the
parts juxtaposed, the subordination of de-
tails to masses, and of masses to the whole.
The law of adaptation is the fundamen-
tal law of nature in all structure. So un-
flinchingly does she modify a type in
accordance with a new position, that
some philosophers have declared a va-
riety of appearance to ' be the object
aimed at; so entirely does she limit the
modification to the demands of necessity,
that adherence to one original plan seems,
to limited intelligence, to be carried to the
very verge of caprice. The domination of
arbitrary rules of taste has produced the
very counterpart of the wisdom thus dis-
played in every object around us ; we tie
up the cameleopard to the rack ; we shave
the lion, and call him a dog ; we strive to
bind the unicorn with his band in the fur-
row, and to make him harrow the valleys
after us !
When the savage of the South Sea
Islands shapes his war club, his first thought
is of its use. His first efforts pare the long
shaft, ao"l mould the convenient handle ;
then the heavier end takes gradually the
edge that cuts, while it retains the weight
that stuns. His idler hour divides its sur-
face by lines and curves, or embosses it with
figures that have pleased his eye, or are
linked with his superstition. We admire
its effective shape, its Etruscan-like quaint-
ness, its graceful form and subtle outline,
yet we neglect the lesson it might teach.
If we compare the form of a newly-
invented machine with the perfected type
of the same instrument, we observe, as we
trace it through the phases of improvement,
how weight is shaken off where strength is
less needed, how functions are made to ap-
proach without impeding each other, how
the straight becomes curved, and the curve
is straightened, till the straggling and cum-
bersome machine becomes the compact,*-
effective and beautiful engine.
So instinctive is the perception of organ-
ic beauty in the human eye, that wo can-
not withhold our admiration even from the 1
organs of destruction. There is majesty
in the royal paw of the lion, music iti the
motion of the brinded tiger ; we accord"
our praise to the sword and the dagger,'
and shudder out approval of the frightful
aptitude of the ghastly guillotine.
Conceiving destruction to be a normal'
element of the system of nature equally^
with production, we have used the word
beauty in connection with it. We have no
objection to exchange it for the word cha-'
racier, as indicating the mere adaptation of
forms to functions, and would gladly sub-
stitute the actual pretensions of our archi-
tecture to the former, could we hope to
secure the latter.
Let ns now turn to a structure of our
own, one which from its nature and uses
commands us to reject authority, and we^
shall find the result of the manly , use x>£
plain good sense so like that of taste and
genius too, as scarce to require a distinctive;
title. Observe a ship at, sea! Mark the.
majestic form of her hull as she rashes,
through the water, observe the graceful
bend of her body, the gentle transition froni
round to flat, the grasp of her. keel, the leap
of her bows, the symmetry and rich tra-
cery of her spars and rigging, and those
grand wind muscles, her sails! Behold an
organization second only to that of an anfc
mal, obedient as the horse, swift as the
stag, and bearing the burden of a thousand;
camels from pole to pole ! What Academy ;
of Design, what research of connoisseur-i
ship, what imitation of the Greeks pro-?,
duced this marvel of construction ? Here!
is the result of the study of man upon the ;
great deep, where Nature spake of the laws
of building, not in the feather and in the
flower, but in the winds and waves, and he,
bent all his mind to hear and to obey..
Could we carry into our civil architecture
the responsibilities that weigh upon our,
ship-building, we should ere long have edi-.
tices as superior to the Parthenon for the
purposes that we require, as the Constitu-
tion or the Pennsylvania is to the galley
of the Argonauts. Could our blunders on,
terra-firma be put to the same dread test
that those of shipbuilders are, little would,
be now left to say on this subject. , ; , ...
Instead of forcing the functions of every:
sort of building into one general form,
adopting an outward shape for the sake of:
theeye or of association, without reference,
to the inner distribution, let us begin from;
the heart as a nucleus and work outward.
The most convenient size and arrangement
of the rooms that are to constitute the:
building being fixed, the access of the light
that may, of the air that must, be wanted;
being provided for, we have the skeleton of
our building. Nay, we have all excepting
the dress. The connexion and order of
parts, juxtaposed for convenience, cannot'
fail to speak of their relation and uses. As-
a group of idlers on the quay, if they grasp
a rope to haul a vessel to the pier, are .
united in harmonious action by the cord
they seize, as the slowly yielding mass:
forms a thorough bass to their livelier
movement, so the unflinching adaptation
of a building to its position and use gives,
226
THE OEAYON.
as a sura product of that adaptation, cha-
racter, and expression.
What a field of study would be opened
by the adoption in civil architecture of those
laws of apportionment, distribution and
connexion, which we have thus hinted at?
No longer could the mere tyro huddle to-
gether a crowd of ill-arranged, ill-lighted
and stifled rooms, and masking the chaos
with the sneaking copy of a Greek facade,
usurp the name of architect. If this ana-
tomic connexion and proportion has been
attained in ships, in machines, and, in spite
of false principles, in such buildings, as
make a departure from it fatal, as in bridges
and in scaffolding, why should we fear its
immediate use in all construction ? As its
first result, the bank would have the phy-
siognomy of a bank, the church would be
recognized as such, nor would the billiard-
room and the chapel wear the same uni-
form of columns and pediment. The Afri-
can king standing in mock majesty with his
legs and feet bare, and his body clothed in
a cast coat of the Prince Regent, is an ob-
ject whose ridiculous effect defies all power
of face. Is not, the Greek temple jammed
in between the brick shops of "Wall street
or Oornhill,- covered with lettered signs,
and finished by groups of money changers
and apple-women, a parallel even for his
African Majesty?
We have before us a letter in which Mr.
Jefferson recommends the model of the
Maison Carrie for the State House at
Richmond. Was he aware that the Maison
Garree is but a fragment, and that, too, of
. a Roman temple ? He was. It is beauti-
) ful! — is the answer. An English society
I erected in Hyde Park a cast in bronze of
I the colossal Achilles of the Qnirinal, and
j changing the head, transformed it into a
J inonument to Wellington. Buc where is the
distinction between the personal prowess,
the invulnerable body, the heaven-shielded
safety of the hero of the Iliad, and the
complex of qualities which makes the mo-
dern general ? The statue is beautiful .'—is
the answer. If such reasoning is to hold,
/ why not translate one of Pindar's odes in
■ memory of Washington, or set up in Caro-
\ lina a colossal Osiris in honor of General
v. Greene ?
The monuments of Egypt and of Greece
are sublime as expressions of their power
and their feeling. The modern nation that
appropriates them displays only wealth in
so doing. The possession of means, not
accompanied by the sense of propriety or
feeling for the true, can do no more for a
nation than it can do for an individual.
The want of an illustrious ancestry may be
compensated, fully compensated; but the
purloining of the coat of arms of a defunct
family, is intolerable. That such a monu-
ment as we have described should have
been erected in London when Chantry
flourished, when Flaxinan's fame was che-
rished by the few, and Bailey and Behnes
were already known, is an instructive fact.
That the illustrator of the Greek poets, and
of the Lord's Prayer, should in the mean-
while have been preparing designs for
George the Fourth's silversmiths, is not
less so.
The edifices, in whose construction the
principles of architecture are developed
may be classed as organic, formed to meet
the wants of their occupants, or monu-
mental, addressed to the sympathies, the
faith or the taste of a people. These two
great classes of buildings, embracing almost
every variety of structure, though occa-
sionally joined and mixed in the same edi-
fice, have their separate rules, as they have
a distinct abstract nature. In the former
class, the laws of structure and apportion-
ment, depending on definite wants, obey a
demonstrable rule. They may be called
machines, each individual of which must
be formed with reference to the abstract
type of its species. The individuals of the
latter class, bound by no other laws than
those of the sentiment which inspires them,
and the sympathies to which they are ad-
dressed, occupy the positions and assume
the forms best calculated to render their
parent feeling. No limits can be put to
their variety ; their size and their richness
have always been proportioned to the
means of the people who have erected
them.
If from what has been thus far said
it shall have appeared that we regard the
Greek masters as aught less than the true
apostles of correct taste in building, we
have been misunderstood. We believe
firmly and fully that they can teach us ; but
let us learn principles, not copy shapes ; let
us imitate them like men, and not ape them
like monkeys/ Remembering what a school
of Art it was that perfected their system of
ornament, let us rather adhere to that sys-
tem in enriching what we invent than sub-
stitute novelty for propriety./ After ob-
serving the innovations of the ancient Ro-
mans, and of the modern Italian masters in
this department, we cannot but recur to
the Horatian precept —
" exemplaria Graaoa
Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna V*
To conclude. The fundamental laws of
building found at the basis of every style of
architecture, must be the basis of ours.
The adaptation of the forms and magnitude
of structures to the climate they are ex-
posed to, and the offices for which they are
intended, teaches us to study our own va-
ried wants in these respects. The har-
mony of their ornaments with the nature
that they embellished and the institutions
from which they sprang, calls on us to do
the like justice to our country, our govern-
ment, and our faith. As a Christian
preacher may give weight to truth, and
add persuasion to proof, by-studying the
models of pagan writers, so the American
builder, by a truly philosophic investigation
of ancient Art. will learn of the Greeks to
be American.
The system of building we have hinted
at cannot be formed in a day. It requires
all the science of any country to ascertain
and fix the proportions and arrangements of
the members of a great building, to plant it
safely on the soil, to defend it from the ele-
ments, to- add the grace and poetry of or-
nament to its frame. Each of these requi-
sites to a good building requires a special
study and a life-time. Whether we are
destined soon to see so noble a fruit, may
be doubted ; but we can, at least, break the
ground and throw in the seed.
We are fully aware that many regard all
matters of taste as matters - of pure caprice
and fashion. We are aware that many
think our architecture already perfect ; but
we have chosen, during this sultry weather,
to exercise a truly American right — the
right of talking. This privilege, thank
God ! is unquestioned — from Miller, who,
robbing B6ranger, translates into fanatical
prose, " Finissons en ! le monde est assez
vieux !" to Brisbane, who declares that
the same world has yet to begin, and waits
a subscription of two hundred thousand
dollars in order to start. Each man is free
to present his notions on any subject. We
have also talked, firm in the belief that the
development of a nation's taste in Art de-
pends on a thousand deep-seated influences
beyond the ken of the ignorant present ;
firm in the belief that freedom and know-
ledge will bear the fruit of refinement and
beauty, we have yet dared to utter a few
words of discontent, a few crude thoughts
of what might be, and we feel the better
for it. We promised ourselves nothing
more than that satisfaction which Major
Downing attributes to every man "who
has had his say, and then cleared out," and
we already perceive pleasingly what he
meant by it.
^nratio ©Mtitmijrf).
EARLY EEKAISSANCE AECHITECTTTEE.
(From Stones of Venice.)
The date at which this corrupt form of
Gothic first prevailed over the early sim-
plicity of the Venetian types, can be de-
termined in an instant, on the steps of the
choir of the church of St. John and Paul.
On our left hand, as we enter, is the tomb
of Doge Marco Cornaro, who died in 1367.
It is rich and fully developed Gothic, with
crockets and finials, but not yet attaining
any extravagant development. Opposite to
it is that of the Doge Andrea Morosini,
who died in 1382. Its Gothic is voluptuous
and overwrought; the crockets are bold
and florid, and the enormous finial repre-
sents a statue of St. Michael. There is no
excuse for the antiquaries who, having this
tomb before them, could have attributed
the severe architecture of the Ducal palace
to a later date ; for every one of the Re-
naissance errors is here in complete develop-
ment, though not so grossly as entirely to
destroy the loveliness of the Gothic forms.
In the Porta della Carta, 1423, the vice
reaches its climax.
Against this degraded Gothic, then, came
up the Renaissance armies ; and their first
assault was in the requirement of univer-
sal perfection. For the first time, since the
destruction of Rome, the world had seen,
in the works of the greatest artists of the
fifteenth century, in the painting of Ghirl-
andajo, Massaccio, Fraucia, Perugino Pin-
turicchio, and Bellini, in the sculpture of
Mino da Fiesole, of Ghiberti, and Veroc-
chio, — a perfection of execution, and full-
ness of knowledge which cast all previous
art into the shade, and which being in the
work of those men, united with all that was
great in that of former days, did indeed
justify the utmost enthusiasm with which
their efforts were, or could be, regarded.
But when this perfection had once been
exhibited in anything, it was required in
everything ; the world could no longer be
satisfied with less exquisite execution, or
less disciplined knowledge. The first thing
that it demanded in all work was, that it
should be done in a consummate and learned
way, and men altogether forgotjthat it was
possible to consummate what was contempt